Tipping the Scales
by Meg Moore
Summary: 'Martha is right. This really can't wait another day, wall be damned...' Castle and Beckett get a nudge in the right direction, courtesy of his mother. An AU Cops and Robbers ending in honor of Castle FanFic Monday.
1. Chapter 1

She glances over her shoulder even as she allows herself to be drawn toward the kitchen by the promise of wine, watching Castle as he goes in search of his daughter. She's reluctant to let him out of her sight for even a moment, and after the day they've had, who could blame her?

He comes to a stop in the doorway of his study and Kate's gaze lingers far longer than is acceptable between two people who are supposedly _just_ good friends, but ever since she laid eyes on him in that bank vault, alive and whole and blissfully unscathed, she _can't stop staring at him_. And when she finally deems it safe enough to look away, it's only to find herself peering directly into the very blue, very knowing eyes of Martha Rodgers.

Standing on the opposite side of the kitchen island, she's got what looks to be a pricy bottle of Cab in one hand and an empty wine glass in the other, a curious tilt to her curly red bob and a shrewd smirk playing on her face. _Busted_. Kate's cheeks flash hot under the intensity of Martha's appraisal, the sudden surge of self-consciousness leaving her feeling overheated and dizzy, and _damn it_ , she is _so_ off her game tonight. She hasn't even had any wine yet.

The surge of adrenaline that began that morning when Castle implored her to tell him that she needed him had spiked when the bank exploded in a shower of smoke and shards of glass. The rush had been enough to keep her buoyed through the remainder of their investigation, but now? _Here_? There's no more case to distract them, and the only mystery left to solve isn't _if_ she and Castle are going to get together, but _when_. This place and these people feel far too much like the home she's been looking for since she lost her mom and it leaves her feeling raw and exposed, and seriously rethinking her decision to accept this dinner invitation.

Martha's expression softens then, a sly smile curving her lips as she takes mercy on Kate and looks away to fill the glass. The momentary reprieve allows Kate to take a few deep, calming breaths as she watches the claret wine gathering in the bowl, hoping beyond hope that Martha just lets this go, that she doesn't make a pointed comment about how she caught Kate staring unabashedly at her son's backside. She honestly doesn't think she'd have the strength to offer up any of her rote denials. Not tonight.

But Martha surprises her, as always. "I owe you an apology, Kate. Well, actually, you _and_ my son."

She opens her mouth to respond only to close it again, because why on earth would Castle's mother need to apologize to her? To hear him tell it, she was a hero in her own right today, a gutsy voice of calm and courage when things were threatening to go to hell. Martha is sliding the filled glass toward her when Kate finds her voice again.

"Martha– no. You have nothing to be sorry for. What happened today was in no way your fault. You couldn't possibly have known-"

"Oh! No! No no, not that." Martha waves her empty hand theatrically, dismissing the suggestion. "No, I mean, I'm so terribly sorry about what happened in the vault."

 _Uh oh_. Kate's fairly certain she knows where Martha might be going with this, and if she's right, it's not much better than being called out for ogling her son's ass right in front of her. It might even be worse.

Martha plows on, undeterred by the look of mild panic brewing on Kate's face. "I mean…" she bends toward her conspiratorially, and Kate is powerless to resist leaning forward to meet her halfway. "I'm sorry that I interrupted your moment with Richard."

Kate's grateful she's not yet taken a sip of wine because Martha would almost certainly be wearing it if she had. For a split second, she considers feigning ignorance and denying that she and Castle shared _a_ _moment_ , but it's a lie and Martha looks to be brooking no lies tonight. Kate knows for a fact that when she fell to her knees before him in the vault, she was looking at him like he hung the moon and stars, an elated, love-drunk smile plastered onto her face. His mother, even in her rush to be freed from her restraints, couldn't possibly have missed it.

Actually, she can't help but wonder what might have happened had Martha not spoken up in that instant and broken the spell. Would she have tugged him forward by the lapel she had latched onto, pulling until his lips met hers somewhere in between? Slid into his lap, wrapped herself around him? Never let him go?

 _Oh God_ \- this needs to stop. This conversation is going to be the end of her because she's just…she's not ready for it all. Not yet. Is she? She finds that her head stubbornly says no as often as her heart cries out _yes!_ , and hell, she doesn't even know what to think anymore. She decides her best bet is to keep it simple and respond truthfully.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Martha. I'm just so grateful that you were all okay."

Martha smiles kindly, and for a second, Kate thinks she's dodged the proverbial bullet, that she isn't going to be put on the spot. But then Martha's hand shoots out and grabs tightly onto one of her own, and Kate knows she's escaped nothing.

"Katherine, tell me. What are you and Richard waiting for?"

Kate sputters weakly before falling silent, her denials futile before they've even been formed.

"I…I mean, we…we've been…" she manages before she has to look away from Martha's piercing gaze, swallowing though the thickness in her throat. She's got nothing. She's out of excuses.

"Listen, kiddo. No one knows what the future holds." Martha's voice is soft but it's steely, and Kate can't help but think that this is exactly the way her own mother would talk to her. "The way I see it, you two are damned fools for waiting even a minute longer. Someone could have died today, you know."

Kate knows that. Of course she does. Terrible, tragic things happen everyday, to innocent, unsuspecting people. She knows that better than anyone.

And yes, they've been waiting, and this morning she could have easily ticked off all of her perfectly logical reasons for delaying the inevitableness of _them_ ; her mom's case, her shooter, her _wall_. But now, those reasons are as mangled and broken as New Amsterdam Bank's façade in the wake of yet another life-or-death situation that easily could have ended in calamity for any one of them. For _all_ of them.

She shuts her eyes tightly against the rising tide of emotions that concept brings up; this day could have ended so differently, so disastrously. No, she doesn't need another untimely reminder of their mortality. No, she doesn't want to miss her chance with this man.

No, Martha is right. This really can't wait another day, wall be damned.

Kate squares her chin, squeezing Martha's hand and meeting her unwavering gaze, so much like her son's she almost has to look away, but she holds steady. She can only hope the fire in her eyes and the set of her jaw conveys her understanding to Martha.

Martha, for her part, searches her face and must see the truth of it there, because she smiles and nods and utters a simple, "Good." She takes the empty glass still clutched in Kate's hand and fills it, setting it next to its already-poured companion and suggests, "In that case, why don't you take one of these to Richard?"

And then Martha is gone with a wink, amidst a sea of brilliant, fluttering paisley silk, calling out, "Alexis, darling, help me with the duck l'orange, s'il vous plaît."

Kate knows that's her cue, and if anyone knows a little something about timing, it would be an actress the caliber of Martha Rodgers. She pushes out a long, steadying breath as she picks up the glasses and spins in the direction of her partner.

 _Here we go._

* * *

 _A/N: When my dear friend Maribea visited me back in June (and we marathoned a LOT of Castle together), she made the comment that she would have loved to have seen a scenario like this one play out at the end of this episode, and when I wanted to write about that, she kindly gave me her permission to run with it. I hope I've done it justice for you, Mar._

 _I hope you've enjoyed reading and if you feel so inclined, I would love to hear your thoughts. Chapter two is complete and will be posted in a few days._

 _A huge thank you to Morgan and Becca for the always-stellar beta services._


	2. Chapter 2

_You're a coward._

It's been her mantra for the better part of the last few hours. Kate sighs inwardly; when she approached him with a soft smile on her face and his glass of wine in her extended hand, she'd had every intention of saying something, of _doing_ something bold and definitive. Something that would leave no doubt in his mind that this, _them_ , is happening now. She'd been full of swagger and moxie and _ready or not, Rick Castle,_ but then he thanked her and teased her about saving her life more times than she'd saved his, and they fell back into the easy shelter of their banter, always talking volumes without managing to say much of anything at all.

They're sitting around the table now, dinner having long since passed in a delicious blur of decadent dishes, the conversation relaxed and easy and no one wants to break the spell to begin the inevitable task of cleaning up. Kate revels in the closeness of these people; their shared affection for each other doesn't make her feel excluded, but rather serves to reminds her (and not for the first time) that she can have this any time she wants. This man and his seemingly bottomless love for her, this family, this _life_ , all hers for the taking if she'll only just speak up and stake her claim. How can something that sounds so simple be simultaneously so thrilling and terrifying?

Their little party finally begins to break up, the events of the day taking their toll at long last in the form of a few jaw-cracking yawns and drooping eyelids. Martha makes her exit before she can be roped into cleaning, claiming "interminable fatigue" and a date with her bathtub for a long soak. She bends to kiss her granddaughter atop her head and her son upon his cheek, before crossing to take Kate's hand in hers.

"Thank you, Katherine, for keeping my family safe."

Kate can only smile and nod, her throat knotted tight around an emotion that not even she can define, the same one that arises every time she envisions the other ways this day could have ended. Luckily, she's the only one who catches the exaggerated wink Martha throws over her shoulder on her ascent up the stairs.

They stand then and begin to carry the remaining food and dirty dishes into the kitchen. When the table is cleared, Castle dismisses his daughter to finish her homework and get a good night's sleep; Alexis attempts to object, but it's only half-hearted, her exhaustion blunting any real protests. She's a little sheepish when she says goodnight to Kate and thanks her for returning her loved ones safely, and Kate wants nothing more than to say _it's okay, I understand your reaction today, I love them too_ , but this isn't the time for that conversation. She has things to square away with the girl's father first.

Castle walks with his daughter arm-in-arm to the foot of the stairs where they speak in hushed tones for a moment. Alexis stands on the bottom step, bringing her closer to eye level with her dad, and after a few quiet words from Castle that Kate can't make out beyond the vague sound of his rumbling baritone, Alexis nods and throws her arms around her dad, the two embracing tightly. This time, she can hear it when Alexis murmurs, "I love you, dad," and his answering "Love you too, kiddo."

Kate watches the scene unfold from the kitchen, hyper-aware of the insistent beat of her heart as Castle watches his little girl climb the stairs. He's such an extraordinary individual in his own right, especially as a father, and she mentally kicks herself because these are the kinds of things she should be _saying_ to him now. Why keep her esteem a secret? Because it ensures the safe isolation of her heart? Sparing herself the pain hardly seems worth it anymore, not when there's so very much to be gained if she acts, and so much to lose if she forces them to wait too long.

He moves to rejoin her in the kitchen then, and she flushes warm and unsteady in anticipation, because _this is it_. Now is her chance. They're finally alone and she promised herself she wouldn't leave here tonight until he _knows_ , and while she doesn't doubt his desire for her, she yearns for him to meet her halfway, maybe nudge the conversation in the right direction all on his own. Anything to make this even a tiny bit easier on her, but she knows he won't because he's doing exactly what she asked of him as they sat side-by-side on those swings last month: he's waiting. Patiently, respectfully, diligently waiting. For her.

And that knowledge, the knowledge that he's delaying his own happiness and gratification, because the only future he envisions for himself includes her and he's willing to wait for that? It's everything.

They fall wordlessly into a comfortable rhythm working side-by-side, stowing the leftover food and cleaning up. He loads the dishwasher and washes the more delicate pieces by hand, passing them off to her to dry, his warm, sudsy fingers stroking hers more than once. It's slowly driving her mad and it doesn't help that his sleeves are rolled up to stay dry, her eyes continuously drawn to the muscles that bow and flex in his forearms, wondering how they'd feel banded around her waist. It's a heady swirl of sensation, the way her body responds to him as much as her heart and mind do, and the ache building inside of her at the thought of finally having him is reaching a fever pitch. She's grateful they continue to work in silence, not trusting her voice to mask her trepidation.

He doesn't question her continued presence as they move easily about the kitchen, their orbit around the other seamless and practiced-looking. She's hoping the fact that she's still here, comfortably shoeless and sipping wine, will in part send her message to him. _I'm not going anywhere._

They work in silence for few minutes more before Kate finally gathers herself enough to break the silence. "Alexis okay?" It isn't lost on her that Ashley's name was conspicuously absent from their dinner conversation tonight. She knows things aren't quite level between her and Alexis just yet, not since her shooting and subsequent disappearing act over the summer. The girl has never uttered an untoward word, but there's a tension radiating from her lately that Kate knows is due in no small part to the danger she puts her father (and his heart) in on a regular basis. But she cares about Alexis, and it's important to her that her partner knows this.

He gives her a sweet sideways smile as he dries his hands. "She will be."

"Good…good," is all she can manage to get out. She can feel her cheeks warming under his appreciative gaze, her lungs suddenly leaden in her chest. It's time, but _how_? How does she begin to say what needs to be said?

"Kate? Are you okay?" His words shake her from her musings. No time like the present, right?

"Castle…about today." She shakes her head in frustration; already she's struggling to get the words out. "You could have- I mean we, we could have…"

She can't utter another sound, her throat closing around memories of the panic that gripped her heart today when that explosion rang through the air. The sting of the tears in her eyes gives her barely any warning before they're already spilling, coursing down her cheeks and leaving shiny tracks in their wake. She needs him, _badly_ , and she can't even get the words out to tell him so.

Castle stands frozen before her, unsure of what to do, and she can plainly see the war raging within him. He's dying to embrace her, but they don't _do_ this. They don't touch, and she's just so goddamn done with that right now, but this man is determined to be chivalrous until his dying breath.

"Can you please just hold me, Castle?" she finally manages.

"Oh. Oh God, yes. I'm sorry, Kate. I'm so, so sorry."

Pulling her close and tucking her head under his chin, his bodily warmth is a balm to her harried heart. She allows herself to be enveloped in his arms, his scent and his soft, indistinguishable words of comfort and his hands gently stroking her back exactly what she needs, and _oh_ , why do they deny themselves of this again? Kate grits her teeth at the thought of so much wasted time.

She feels as much as she hears the rumble in his chest when he speaks again. "I'm sorry, Kate. Sometimes I just don't know where the boundaries lie anymore, and the last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable."

A fresh wave of tears comes streaming down at that because she _knows_ , that's his way of saying _I love you and I'll do anything_ without actually saying the words and putting her on the spot. It's his way of saying he would move heaven and earth at her request, and his devotion fills her heart to the point of bursting.

Pulling back to be able to look in his eyes, she makes no attempt to wipe her tears away. _Let him see_ , she tells herself. She knows that if this is going to be the kind of relationship she's looking for, the one she told Castle she wanted on that day when they fought and made up at the swing set, she needs to let him see it all, including (and maybe especially) her moments of vulnerability.

She reaches up to cup his cheek, his breath warm as he nuzzles into her palm. His eyes fall shut when he touches the softest of kisses to the tender flesh there, and it's positively electric, a current of love and desire passing from his lips to her skin and straight to her heart. He opens his eyes to look upon her again, his face so full of undisguised adoration, and if she's ever wondered before if she would just _know_ when their moment had arrived? Well…now she knows. All she wants to do is give it back, starting right now.

"But that's just it, Castle. I don't want there to be any boundaries between us anymore. I don't want anything between us. I just want you."

She searches his face, desperate for his confirmation that she hasn't overstepped or piled too much on top of this already-emotional day. But more than anything, she just needs to know that this is what he wants too, that she's his charmed third time, his last first, but any concern she has is short-lived. The grin that takes over his face is a truly joyous, infectious thing, and before she knows it, her lips are stretched into the same painfully happy smile.

His expression softens then, something infinitely tender lacing his voice when he murmurs, "Oh Kate, don't you know I'm already yours? I always have been."

She has to look down, a strange, sudden burst of wonder and shyness heating up her cheeks under the burn of his gaze, but Castle doesn't let her escape. _Not anymore_ , she thinks, and she's grateful that just this once, he takes the lead. Using two fingers, he gently lifts her chin until their eyes meet again, his several shades darker than they were just a moment ago, glancing down at her lips like he knows exactly what he wants to do with them. And oh, how she wants him to do _exactly_ that.

The hand at his cheek slides around the back of his neck, and she uses that leverage to pull him to her just as she lifts up on her toes, their lips meeting softly in the middle. And this time, there isn't a single bomb, Broadway diva, or bank robber in sight. There are no more interruptions as Kate drapes both arms around his neck and angles her mouth against his, deepening the kiss and drawing a deep mutual moan of satisfaction.

They stay like that for a few beats, the hard edges of chrome and granite in the kitchen becoming softened and muted around them as their mouths fuse together, tongues gliding and tasting at leisure, so unlike that frenetic kiss in a dark alleyway not quite a year ago, but urgent all the same. It's so good, _so_ right, and really, she's the one who had no idea.

Pulling back at last, their breath comes in little panting exhales, their foreheads pressed together as they struggle to maintain a thread of control. Castle smudges one more kiss to her parted lips, his mouth soft and swollen, wet and made to fit against hers; she's convinced of it.

He puts only enough distance between them to look into her eyes again, smiling in that adorable, crooked way she's sure he reserves only for her and pushing a few stray tendrils of hair behind her ears. His touch is already so reverent, so intimate, and it stirs the butterflies in her belly, making them flutter and take flight into her chest. She's grateful that he speaks first, not trusting the strength of her own voice after those kisses just yet.

"Kate Beckett, will you go on a date with me?"

Like his mother did earlier, Rick Castle has managed to surprise her. She blurts out a completely uncharacteristic giggle before replying, "Really? A date? How very old-fashioned of you."

His smile grows as he shrugs. "What can I say, I'm an old-fashioned kind of guy." He waggles his eyebrows at her and she wonders at his ability to do that, how he manages to infuse sweetness and humor into everything he does. He does that for her, too; makes her lighter, makes her smile more, makes her happy.

"I want to do this right, Kate. You and me-" Shaking his head as if trying to jar the right words loose, his eyes close briefly, but when he opens them again, there's a certainty and steadiness in them that would wipe away any remaining doubts (if she'd had any). "You're it for me. I want you for keeps. And I want to start by taking you out on our first official date. What do you say?"

Her cheeks strain under the force of her smile once more, because this _is_ it. She's looking into the face of her future, and for the first time in a very long time, she thinks _the future looks glorious_.

"Okay. Let's do it."

* * *

 _A/N: I was absolutely blown away by the response to the first chapter and I thank all of you from the bottom of my heart for every review, favorite, and follow. As always, my greatest reward is your enjoyment, and I'm always thrilled to hear your thoughts if you have the time to leave some._

 _Morgan & Becca & Maribea...thank you, for your beta services and for your pompom waving. Nothing I write would see the light of day without you guys._


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